


a war in my chest

by colourmeblue



Series: you're my ocean, painted blue [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22170730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourmeblue/pseuds/colourmeblue
Summary: Ever since being freed from Obann, Yasha has felt like a dam.With everything - her past deeds, all of the death, her emotions, her trauma - all welling up inside of her and ready to explode at a moment’s notice.The fight in the ring had been freeing, in a way. She believes she got some frustrations out on the person who deserves it the most: herself.(Spoilers from E89.)
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Series: you're my ocean, painted blue [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595863
Comments: 7
Kudos: 206





	a war in my chest

Ever since being freed from Obann, Yasha has felt like a dam.

With everything - her past deeds, all of the death, her emotions, her trauma - all welling up inside of her and ready to explode at a moment’s notice.

The fight in the ring had been freeing, in a way. She believes she got some frustrations out on the person who deserves it the most: herself. And she knows that nobody else in the Mighty Nein is going to understand in the slightest, besides Caleb. Even then, it appears to be different with him. He has his own issues to work through regarding Trent, who is still very much a part of their lives.

She can’t burden him with her problems. She won’t. If he feels the need to approach her and discuss it, then she’ll accommodate him. But she’s not about to weigh him down with what’s on her own mind.

However, there are one or two people in the Nein who are capable of coaxing things out of her. One of whom pops into her thoughts as she wanders over to the table that Yasha is currently sitting at. It’s a casual saunter, probably still a little smug considering she’s the only one who was victorious in her fight.

Yasha’s not really in the mood for any sort of amusement, but she knows Beau is going to be who she is regardless of what she wants.

“What’re you doin’ sitting over here by yourself?” 

Yasha can tell she’s a little tipsy, and that comforts her more than it bothers her. She’s glad they’re all having a good time despite the events of the evening. She looks over at the table where the rest of the Nein are seated. They have definitely noticed her absence, but seem to want to give her space at the same time. “It was getting a little loud over there.” It’s mostly the truth. She wants to be alone with her own thoughts, and nobody has thought to come and bother her just yet.

Beau takes a stool, sitting on it in a way that only Beau would - knees apart and free hand gripping the seat as she sets her tankard down on the table. She’s not too close and not too far, and Yasha can tell that even drunk Beau is aware of her boundaries.

“Stupid question, but uh… you holdin’ up okay?“

Beau’s looking at her, but Yasha isn’t meeting her gaze. “I feel… a little flat.” It’s an understatement and they both know it, but at least she isn’t _entirely_ hiding it. That’s progress. At least, she thinks so.

“Sorry. The fight looked rough.” Yasha knows that Beau knows what her plan was during the fight. She’s still splattered with her own blood. “I just want you to know that I get how you’re feeling. Probably doesn’t fuckin’ seem like it, but I do.” Yasha knows. Beau’s self-deprecation is constantly shielded by humour and dismissiveness, but Yasha knows it’s there. 

“Thank you, Beau.”

Beau picks up her tankard and knocks it against Yasha’s. “This’ll help. Promise. It’s not the healthiest way to deal with shit, but… ah, who fuckin’ cares right now?”

Yasha raises both eyebrows ever-so-subtly. “That’s quite the perspective.” Something she would expect from the old Beau more so than the new Expositor.

Beau leans in closer to Yasha to make sure she gets her point across. “Listen… I wrote the whole fuckin’ book on unhealthy coping mechanisms. Sex, sex with multiple people, drinking, starting drunk bar fights, starting _sober_ bar fights, doing a whole ton of illegal shit…” She counts them off on her fingers. “I just want you to know that… I’m keeping an eye on you. Not in a weird ‘I don’t trust you’ kinda way, but because it’s fuckin’ concerning, quite frankly.”

She was doing so well, but Beau can never quite stick the landing. Especially not after she’s been drinking.

“If you want to wallow, I’m gonna let you. For a little while.” Beau gives her a look of understanding. She might not be able to place herself in Yasha’s position, but Yasha appreciates that she tries. “I’m gonna let you do what you want for a bit. Within reason. Just wanted you to know that I’ll keep an eye on you so it doesn’t get out of control.”

Yasha’s not sure what to say to that. The last person to ever be vocal about their concern like this was, well, Molly. She can feel Beau’s eyes on her, and it’s making her increasingly nervous. “Beau…”

“I care about what fucking happens to you, Yasha. Okay? We all do.”

This stops Yasha even further in her tracks. Now she’s certain that Beau wouldn’t be saying this if she was completely sober.

“What can I do?” Beau asks, softness in her tone. Again, it’s unlike her, but it draws Yasha in anyway.

“Nothing. Just...” _Don’t leave me alone._ She doesn’t know how to be honest without being vulnerable. “I don’t know. You shouldn’t be going to any trouble for me.”

“Well, too bad.” Beau takes a long sip of her drink. “You’re gonna have to run off into another storm to get rid of us… and even then I think Jester would follow you and drag you back with her deceptively strong arms.”

Yasha laughs quietly at that, and it causes Beau to tilt her head and smile. “You’re right, she probably would.”

“Unless you _really_ want to go. I mean, she’d probably let you… eventually.” Beau shrugs.

Yasha looks back down at her tankard. “It’s fine. I… don’t think I’ll be going anywhere.”

Beau’s expression softens, if only slightly. “That’s, uh… that’s good. Y’know, it’ll be better for all of us if you stick around.”

Yasha sighs. “You know what they called the matriarch of my tribe? She is the Champion.” She pauses, but she can tell that Beau understands her words. “It’s what Obann called me. Like I was some prized possession. The word has followed me around for a long time.”

Beau listens patiently, but Yasha knows her well enough to know she wants to interrupt.

“I don’t know, he kept treating me like this invincible thing. Like I was more important than anything else.” 

Beau narrows her eyes. “That must’ve been confusing. Keeping you captive but praising you at the same time.”

“Yes.” Yasha almost feels ashamed to admit it. While she’s glad that Obann is dead, she doesn’t feel at ease. “It’s not over yet. The job is not done.” 

Beau scrunches up her face, as if it pains her to ask. “D’you… miss it? I know that sounds weird, but… I don’t know. With us, after Molly, I know it must’ve been hard for you to fit in here. Especially when you were off doing things for the Stormlord. I never… I mean, it really sucks if you did feel that way, because I always thought you belonged. I still do, but- ah, fuck.” She shakes her head and drops her head, almost as if she’s embarrassed by her own rambling.

There’s a hint of amusement in Yasha’s eyes, but it vanishes easily. “No, I don’t miss it. I was never one for praise anyway.” She takes a long pause. “I missed you. I mean- you _all_.”

Beau’s head snaps back up quickly, searching Yasha’s eyes for a brief moment. Fuck. She fucked up.

Yasha notices that Beau’s next breath is shaky. “We missed you, too.” Beau’s eyes linger on hers a little too long, conveying something more. She knows it’s a lot for Beau to admit.

“But… thank you. For saying that.” She wants to acknowledge whenever Beau says something kind to her. Not because it’s unusual - it isn’t - but because she never seems to see it herself. She never sees that she’s always the first to reassure Yasha. “You’re right, it was hard.”

Beau seems taken aback and it takes her a second of stuttering before she’s able to speak again. “Uh, yeah. Don’t mention it.” 

Yasha breathes. She feels like she ruined a moment. “You don’t have to keep sitting here, you know.” She doesn’t even have to look over at the other table to see how much fun everyone else is having. “I’m not going to run away or fall apart or whatever.”

Beau lets the awkwardness of the previous moment melt away. “Oh, nah, it’s…” She looks over towards the rest of the Nein. “Y’know, people don’t _hate_ being around you, Yasha. Contrary to popular belief,” she jokes.

Yasha exhales again softly. It’s all so strange. Talking as if the past few months hadn’t happened. Talking more openly than they even had _before_ everything with Obann occurred. Beau admitting that she actually wants to sit and have a conversation with her and not punch her in the face. She doesn’t know how to react to any of it. “I… appreciate that.” She doesn’t agree or disagree.

“Great!” Beau announces, standing up and slamming her tankard down on the table for emphasis. “I’m getting us more drinks, and you’re gonna deal with it.”

“Okay.” Yasha nods and avoids Beau’s gaze before she wanders off towards the bar. It’s only then that Yasha dares herself to look in her direction. Beau has certainly done a lot of growing up in her absence, and while Yasha has always admired her, it’s something more now. There’s another layer there that she’s not quite ready to unpack.

She’s so lost in her own thoughts that she almost doesn’t notice Beau looking back at her, leaning against the bar as she waits for the bartender’s attention. There’s a smirk on her face that causes Yasha’s face to heat up. Oh, gods. Fuck.

Of course, Yasha does the even more obvious thing, and takes it upon herself to stare pointedly at the empty tankard in front of her, cheeks burning.

It’s going to be a long night, but maybe, a welcome one.


End file.
